


Lighthouse in a Storm

by mjonesing (klassmartin)



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Also some minor avengering, F/M, Little bit of Fluff, Little bit of angst, Michelle is very confused, Peter is not, and now the world is weird, i wrote this before ffh then forgot about it, im so bored is anyone else bored, perpetual hermit but I’m very much done with this all, so I figure someone might be desperately bored enough to read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:14:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23717287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klassmartin/pseuds/mjonesing
Summary: Michelle has always had a plan.It hasn’t faltered for ten years.Then Peter happens.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker
Comments: 29
Kudos: 108





	Lighthouse in a Storm

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this just before FFH come out because I DID NOT SEE THAT COMING (it’s been like a year and I’m still wrapping my brain around that). I don’t honestly think this is great (saleswoman of the year here) buuuuuuuuuuuut I found this in the middle of a boredom induced all-nighter and I figure someone might just be bored enough to read this, hell maybe even enjoy it. If you are that one person, I’m sorry and hope your day improves from here on.

"You're being weirder than usual."

It's 2pm on a Tuesday, and Michelle Jones is Very Much Done with a certain Peter Parker.

Currently, they're watching some bullshit documentary on the Cold War because Ms Tullins is out 'sick' (she's hungover, it was her sister's birthday yesterday). At least, they're supposed to be. Half of them are on their phones, Michelle is sketching the sub, and Peter is humming tunelessly while trying to throw scrunched up bits of paper down the back of her collar.

She glances back at him over her chair. "Also, your little game isn't very on brand for saving the world."

Instead of answering her, his eyes take on a playful gleam that she's come to associate with him preparing to make her cringe. That's good, she supposes. Finding ways to make her roll her eyes means he can't be having too rough a day.

"You like when I'm weird, though."

She sighs and leans her arm on the chair back to get a better view of him. "I like when you focus in class and stop bothering me."

"This documentary is crap and we both know it. I've counted 25 inaccuracies so far."

She arches an eyebrow at him. She's counted 26.

Peter glances around the room and reaches across his desk to take her hand. He runs his thumb slowly over the grooves of her knuckles. She presses her lips tightly together and pretends she can't feel a flutter in her stomach.

She narrows her gaze. "You're the worst."

Peter smiles, his face lighting up in that way that makes him look like a young boy. Something in her settles, like leaves after a hurricane.

Turning back to her sketch, Michelle lets him hold on, lets their interlaced hands dangle in the space between their desks as he lays down his head and drifts off. And if she has to use a few choice words with Ned later on for taking a photo, it's probably worth it.

(And if she steals his phone to forward herself the only copy, well… Who can blame her for enjoying the uptick of his lips as he sleeps.)

* * *

So, yes. Peter likes Michelle. Michelle tolerates Peter.

(If you define tolerate as struggling to keep your heartbeat calm when he walks into the room or meets your gaze or says your name or takes over your thoughts or dares to exist at all.

She's fine. It's not a big deal.)

It's been seven months of… not dating, exactly. Seven months of something. Something _great_. They're together, though she won't accept societies necessity to assign labels to it. They don't go to the movies or to fancy restaurants or take romantic walks around the city. He's too busy keeping the city safe, and she's… Michelle. None of that stuff was ever going to be her style.

Instead things remain mostly the same. They spend most of their free time with Ned and the other decathalon members, Peter babbling away and Michelle pretending to not pay attention with a book in her hand. Michelle has slipped seamlessly back into her role as captain, and demands they all study twice as hard because she'll be damned if she’s going to let something as ridiculous as five lost years of knowledge put them at a disadvantage.

Sometimes, when the topic of 'The Snap' comes up, Peter will flinch and disappear inside his own head for a bit, but he's getting better every day at working through it. He still goes out every night in his ridiculous suit, and Michelle stays at home to study because she refuses to sit around waiting for him like some badly written female love interest.

Then, of course, there are the vastly different things between them. When they're leaving school and he's checked nobody is around, he presses his lips to hers; to her cheek; her temple. They play footsie under the lunch table, and once they made out beneath the bleachers because Peter wanted to know what all the fuss was about. She runs decathalon drills with him while he works out on quiet rooftops, lying on his back as he does press ups or letting him bench press her as she perches on an abandoned sheet of wood. He calls her at the end of every patrol, sometimes to give her a rundown of the night, sometimes 'just to hear your voice'. She immediately makes gagging noises and hangs up when he tells her that, but he always calls back with a quiet chuckle. She reads aloud to him until she hears the familiar squeak of his bedroom window closing.

And once a week, late on a Saturday night, Peter will crawl into her room and collapse onto her bed, his head in her lap, her fingers in his ridiculously soft hair. He will quickly succumb to exhaustion and she will force herself to finish her question set before curling up around his back, pressing a kiss to the back of his neck.

It is on one such Saturday evening that Michelle finds herself distracted from the college brochure in her hands. In her peripheral vision she spots him, creeping across her ceiling. Which is nice. Usually he knocks over a plant on his way in.

He pauses to slide her window closed and then hangs by his feet to look over her shoulder.

"NYU?" he says in lieu of greeting. She swats him away and he lands without a sound by her desk. "Thought you were set on Georgetown or Stanford?"

Michelle bites her lip and keeps her eyes resolutely on the brochure as Peter slips out of his suit and into the spare clothes on her desk chair. While it's still a little early to be thinking about colleges, Michelle has always had a pretty set plan of her future, albeit two distinct paths. So far she's been unable to choose between journalism and political sciences.

"I doubt you're going to be able to find time to look into colleges yourself, so I should at least create a short list of the best schools locally. I assume you won't want to be taking your little side project on the road, especially with your buddies being upstate." She turns the page and shifts slightly, settling into the position he seems to enjoy most when using her lap as a pillow. He hums contently in response, eyes already closing. "Besides, I'm considering Columbia."

At this, Peter bolts into an upright position with very little grace, the brochure slipping from her grasp. His voice comes out as little more than a squeak. "Columbia? As in, New York Columbia?"

Michelle spares him a momentary glance and snatches back the brochure. "Well I definitely don't mean in Canada."

"Why Columbia?" Peter fidgets beside her and she frowns at the intrusion to her focus.

"It ticks all the boxes."

"Oh. _Oh_. Okay."

Michelle sighs. She hasn't been able to take in a single word since he came in. "Can you stop being a weirdo? It's very distracting."

"Okay." Peter continues to fidget with his hands, then his dark eyes settle on her in a way that makes her skin feel like it's ablaze. "So uh, speaking of distractions, do you… Do you want to -?"

She rolls her eyes. "Oh my god, just get over here."

And suddenly Peter's hands are slipping under her shirt and his lips are rather beautifully attacking her own, and any capacity she had left for thought is thrown out of the window.

* * *

Here's the truth: she's not entirely sure when Columbia had even become an option for her.

Her plan had always been to leave after high school. She'd get valedictorian, a scholarship, and say goodbye to everything she'd ever known. She'd start anew in a different state, where no one knew her and no one would bug her. She'd be able to study to her hearts content the topics that she loved the most, and she'd graduate top of her class and have her pick of the best jobs around.

Once she decided on her major, of course.

Michelle knew she wanted to help people - not in the way Peter helped people, of course. She wanted to enact real change in a big way. Both journalism and political science offered her the chance to do just that, and Columbia could offer her both options. It was a logical choice.

And so what if she doesn't get to move? Michelle can still be happy in New York. She loves New York. The New York Times is here. Hell, she could be a Governor anywhere, why not New York? The presidency is just a small step from there. She can follow either of her dreams here quite happily, and Peter will be right there with her. Maybe, after first year, they can find somewhere together, local of course so he can still pop in on May and -

Oh. _Oh_.

Peter.

When had that happened? She'd always been so confident in her plans for the future, had been sure of them since she was nine years old. In just seven short months, he's effortlessly made himself at home in her mind, affecting everything she does, and apparently plans.

It's absurd. She hates him.

(Does she?)

She has learnt him, in ways she never imagined she'd understand another person. Silly things, like how he claims to like his coffee (black, two sugars), and how he actually prefers it (latte with a ridiculous amount of whipped cream). She knows that he has a top 5 for his socks and shirts but not his underwear, and that he hates peanut M&Ms but loves the peanut butter ones.

And there's the big things too. She knows how to soothe him after a nightmare, and that sometimes he has to stare at his hands to reassure himself he's not dying again. There's something about too much of the colour red that sends him into a panic attack, and he doesn't tell her why until her alarm clock triggers one in the middle of the night. She buys a new clock with blue lights and donates anything with red in her wardrobe and tries to swallow the overwhelming need to scream at it all, at a universe that keeps taking from a boy who deserves so much light and life and love in his life, not to be haunted by those he's lost, by an alien planet that almost became his final resting place.

They've fit their lives together with very little effort. Michelle finds herself sketching his hands at least three times a week. Peter presents her with a little Lego figure of her likeness, declaring it a six month anniversary present, and though she comments on his inaccurate use of the word anniversary, she knows he spots it on the bookshelf devoted to her favourite volumes when he next comes over. She has a favourite spot in his room and he knows by the tempo of her footsteps what kind of tea she needs. They have joint custody of a little cactus that rotates weekly between his locker and hers.

It's too much. It's too soon.

Michelle viscerally feels the moment her heart begins to close itself off. She wraps herself around him and prepares for the worst.

* * *

It goes about as well as she had expected.

"Michelle!"

She freezes despite herself at his use of her full name.

"Care to explain this?"

Ned presses his phone into her chest so hard she's forced to take it, but she won't look. She can't. If it's anything like her own message chain, she can't possibly look.

"You're done? Just like that? Please, Michelle, you're probably more head over heels than he is. And that's saying something, because I caught him doodling your name with a whole bunch of hearts the other day."

“It’s just ti-“

“Okay so it wasn’t just your name. There was also a ‘Peter Jones’ in there.”

Michelle flushes despite the situation. That nerd is such a hopeless romantic.

“MJ, you’re one of my best friends, but if you break his heart unnecessarily, I will reconsider your ranking.” Ned looks so serious that she’s actually nervous about this for a moment. She hadn’t considered the possibility of losing Ned too.

“Tell me why,” Ned continues, “Give me one good reason why you’re doing this, and I’ll leave it alone.”

And that’s the problem, isn’t it? She doesn’t really know why. Just that the way he makes her feel is scary, and life-altering, and she was never meant to be this girl. She had _plans_ , and he was never a part of them until he slipped so effortlessly into her life.

She bites back the rush of tears so hard her lip bleeds. And she walks away.

* * *

The problem with your ex-boyfriend being Spider-Man is that he knows exactly when and how to hide from you.

For three days, the only glimpses she gets of him are in their shared classes. He switches seats so she only ever sees the tension held in his shoulders, and he refuses to take part in class discussion. He slips down the corridors so effortlessly that were it not for the three hours of the day she’s already spent staring at his back, she would think he’s not there. Ned offers her weak, pained smiles when she passes him. He doesn’t even stop her to discuss the new episode of their favourite show.

It’s exactly how it used to be.

She’s so _lonely_.

* * *

A week after they break up, there’s a super-human attack in Madrid.

Some guy with inhuman powers and a bad haircut takes in upon himself to kill hundreds of civilians and destroy irreplaceable historical artefacts, and they watch it all unfold on the screens in their classroom. It’s half a world away, but she knows the terror those innocent bystanders are filled with. She’d _been_ that innocent bystander before.

And then, it gets so much worse.

A wave of excited chatter engulfs the room, but she can’t speak. She can’t move. She can’t do anything but watch.

Someone with Captain America’s shield drops into the scene and takes the bad guys focus, and from behind, Spider-Man swings into play.

There’s three Avengers battling it out, but whatever powers this guy has is beginning to overwhelm them. She can’t make out the details from the grainy helicopter footage, but she thinks she sees Peter being thrown to the ground, only to jump right back up and into the fight once more.

She can’t breathe. She can’t look away.

The Avengers are a broken team, still reeling from the loss of four of their own, so many of them not even on this planet. If they can’t protect them all, who will?

But then.

One of the many make-shift projectiles is thrown straight at the helicopter, and the feed cuts out.

The room falls into silence.

Michelle runs.

* * *

May opens the door with watery eyes and immediately engulfs her in a tight hug.

“I saw the news, I don’t - what’s happening?”

May’s expression is full of pain and concern. “Ned lost contact a few minutes ago. He’s in Peter’s room.”

Michelle immediately takes off down the hall, the bedroom door bouncing off the wall with the force she throws it open. Ned jumps at the intrusion, turning to take in the storm of a girl who’d just invaded the space.

He looks unsurprised at her entrance. “I haven’t got through yet.”

“Then work harder,” she spits out, wrapping an arm around his shoulder to lessen the sting of her words. Ned watches her for just a moment with a sad smile she doesn’t understand.

He turns back to the screen and begins to type.

She just watches him. She’s never felt so useless.

“Our line of communication went down about ten minutes ago, but it’s not the only signal the suit receives. If I can hack into - No, damnit, let me in - Just a second…”

“Are you... hacking the Avengers servers?”

“I will strongly deny this later, but yes. Yes I am.” Ned’s eyebrows raise triumphantly as he gets another step closer. “Peter only has access at the new compound, but he’s terrible at keeping anything secret. Especially,” Ned leans back with a relieved sigh, “His password.”

Ned holds out a headset. She stares at it in confusion.

“He doesn’t want to talk to me right now.”

“That’s the only thing he wants,” Ned whispers. “Go ahead.”

She takes the headset robotically, slipping it over her head until she can hear a cacophony of noise; explosions and barked orders and then, heartbreakingly:

“Has anyone found the kid yet?”

“Little busy right now, Cap.”

“Stop calling me that, Bucky!”

“Rhodes, any visual?”

“Working on it.”

“Work faster,” Michelle demands into the mic.

“Who the fuck is that?”

“How did you get on this line?!”

Michelle growls in frustration. “You find me Peter right now, or I swear, this fight will just be the warm up to the hell I will rain down on you.”

There’s a pause.

“Well, you heard the girl, Rhodes. Find him.”

Agonising minutes slip by. Michelle can barely breath.

He has to be okay.

She can’t lose him. Not like this.

“I see something!” Rhodes yells, and there’s a lot of noise of rubble being blasted and the other guys taking the slack as they search, and then -

“Hey, kid. Bear in mind the shit show we're in the middle of right now, but, uh, there’s someone who wants to talk to you.”

“Ned?” his beautiful voice rasps out, and Michelle sobs at the sound. Somewhere behind her, May is crying in relief.

“Peter,” she whispers.

He’s quiet for a moment. “MJ? Is that you?”

“Yeah it’s me.”

“Are you okay? Is Ned okay? What’s going on?”

There’s so much panic in his voice despite his current situation that she almost smiles. There’s the boy she knows.

“I think we should be asking you that,” she tries to joke. “We’re all okay.”

“Oh,” he sighs. He sounds out of breath. She wonders if that’s due to injury or jumping back into the fight. “Good. That’s good.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. I’m fine.” She glances at Ned and he shakes his head once. On the screen, she can see Karen’s display of his vitals. Tears slip down her cheeks.

“Don’t you lie to me, Peter. Not you.”

“I’m fine, just need a minute. Let myself heal a bit.”

She bites her lip, eyes glued to the display. Ned continues his quick typing and then the feed flickers up, showing what Peter is seeing right now.

It’s carnage. There’s rubble and flames and Michelle is reminded of the battle against Thanos, just shy of a year ago. There’s a heavy coating of dust on his suit, and blood stains on his thigh, his stomach, his arms. He’s just lying there, gasping for breath, and it makes something in Michelle break.

This isn’t how Peter Parker dies. She won’t let it.

“Listen up, Peter. This is what’s going to happen. You’re going to get. _Up_. You’re going to _fight_. You’re going to beat this bastard. And then you’re gonna come home to me. To May, and Ned. You can do this. I know you can do this. You just have to get up.”

“MJ, I don’t-“

“What do you always tell me?” Ned’s hand slips into hers and squeezes in support. “No matter how many times you get hit, you…”

“Michelle,” he almost begs, but she’s not accepting it. Peter Parker is not a quitter.

“No matter how many times you get hit, you what, Peter? What do you do?”

“Get back up,” he whispers.

“Didn’t catch that.”

“Get back up,” he repeats, voice stronger, more determined. “You get back up.”

The feed shifts as Peter stumbles to his feet. A smile tugs at her lips.

“Yes, Peter! Just in time!” A voice calls through the feed. “Time to finish this guy. You ready for move 76?”

“Let’s do this.” Peter throws out a web and launches into the air. May cheers as Ned fist bumps Michelle.

“I’ll see you at home,” she says, before handing back the headset and stepping away from the screen. May sweeps her into another bone crushing hug.

“Thank you, sweetie,” the older woman whispers in her ear. “It’s not been the same without you.”

* * *

She wakes that night to the hushed cursing of someone stubbing their toe.

The R2D2 alarm clock blinks back the time as three in the morning, and as her eyes adjust to the darkness, she makes out the shadows of Peter’s room in the dim glow of Ned’s laptop, and the boy himself watching her from near the door.

“Hi,” she whispers, suddenly wide awake.

Peter tip-toes towards her, now in his civilian clothing. She can see the swell of bandages underneath them, and the whole right side of his face is dark with bruises. He looks nervous, gaze flickering over the sight of her curled up in his bed. She’s wearing his clothes. It’s a lot for him to take in.

“Hey,” he finally replies, “You’re here.”

“I said I would be.” She hesitates. “Unless that’s not -“

“No, no it’s fine,” he rushes to interrupt her, taking the last few steps towards the bed until he’s sat on the edge, next to her knees. “I just didn’t want to get my hopes up. But it’s good. I’m glad you’re here.”

Above them, Ned rolls over and snores.

“Did you see your Aunt?” Michelle asks, unsure on what else to say.

“Yeah. I got back about an hour ago. She’s been telling me off for most of it.”

Michelle nods, and Peter looks away to take in the mess of his room. After the battle was won, May had ordered them pizza and they’d sat in front of the laptop, watching as the Avengers began to help with the clean-up. Ned had continued to talk to Peter at various intervals, until exhaustion took over and May sent him to sleep. Peter had begun the journey home by then. The two women had retired to bed soon after.

“Peter -“

“MJ -“

They stop in unison, and chuckle awkwardly.

“You first,” he says, eyes still shining with humour.

“Okay.” She sits up, the covers slipping down her chest. She stares at his hands fidgeting in his lap, building her courage, until she can look him in the eye and say:

“I love you.”

Peter gawks at her, mouth opening and closing like a fish as her words settle between them. She only gives him a moment to process them before she continues.

“I’m so sorry I hurt you, Peter. I don’t have a good excuse. I just… I got scared. I feel so much for you that I couldn’t understand, and I ran. It was really shitty of me and I’m truly sorry.”

She reaches for him but thinks better of it. Peter takes her hand anyway.

“I didn’t know what love was supposed to feel like. I only know how the books describe it, but it’s so much more than sunshine and rainbows and butterflies. It’s grounding and freeing and painful, and a million other adjectives that I can’t think of right now because you’re staring at me and not saying anything. Please say something.”

Peter shifts towards her to take her face in his hands. He wipes at tears she didn’t know had fallen.

“For the smartest person in our school, you’re really stupid.”

She laughs. She’s never been called stupid before. Most definitely deserves it, though.

“It was the future, right? That’s what scared you.”

She loves that he just knows. She loves how he understands her so effortlessly. She loves _him_.

It’s so much easier, now she gets it.

“I suddenly realised you were a part of my plan,” she answers with all the sincerity she can muster. “I’ve been so sure of every step in my life, and then you came along and changed it all. And I didn’t mind.”

Peter smiles at her, her heart skipping a beat. “I’m so in love with you, MJ.”

She grins through a sob of relief. Her heart swells.

“Ned told me about ‘Peter Jones.’”

Peter groans and flips off his unassuming best friend in the top bunk. “I’m gonna-“

She cuts him off with a kiss full of everything she feels for him. His palms slide around her waist and she holds him close, their lips moving together achingly slow, so perfect that she feels herself melt in his arms. All the pain she’s put them through in the last week evaporates with each caress of his skin and stroke of her hair.

When they pull away, Michelle rests their foreheads together. “I love you,” she says quietly, calmly.

“I love you,” he mumbles, suppressing a yawn. She rolls her eyes at him and tugs him down until his back in pressed to her chest, arms wrapped around him as he settles against her. This is home, she thinks to herself. This is all I want.

Peter laces their fingers together, breathing already evening out in the place he feels safest. She presses a kiss to the back of his neck, before letting sleep consume her.

* * *

This time she wakes to daylight, Peter still in her arms, and Ned’s devilish smirk as his phone flashes.


End file.
